The Art of Fighting Without Fighting

By The Sensei

The art of fighting without fighting! Many of you will be familiar with this expression. It was used by martial arts icon Bruce Lee in Enter The Dragon. In the scene when the martial arts masters are all traveling to Han’s island by boat, one fighter asks Bruce’s character what style he practices, and this was the star’s reply. But they are more than just lines from a classic movie script—they represent a combat philosophy that The Urban Warrior lives by.

But what does it mean?

Fighting without fighting means winning by avoiding direct confrontation. It’s that simple.

Sometimes direct conflict is unavoidable

Simple—but not easy. Avoiding direct confrontation can in fact be astonishingly difficult, or near to impossible, if you have already placed yourself in a position where confrontation is exceedingly likely. Bruce Lee’s own life is an excellent example of this. Although the phrase “fighting without fighting” was his own, he put himself in a situation—his own life circumstances—where confrontation was inevitable.

After completing post-production for Enter The Dragon in the States, Lee returned to Hong Kong, where his movie star status had exploded. He was mobbed everywhere and was stalked by entire crowds of obsessive fans, night and day. He was so overwhelmed by this high profile, that he resorted to carrying a handgun with him every time he left the house. (All firearms were illegal in Hong Kong at the time.) When he was at home he did not feel safe, either—on more than one occasion, rival martial artists scaled the walls of his Hong Kong property in order to challenge him. These instances left him profoundly shaken and insecure. Even on set he got less respect than he deserved, and was aggressively challenged by extras in front of cast and crew more than once.

All these experiences left Lee incredibly stressed. He had carefully cultivated this global image of himself the ultimate tough guy; and now that edifice had become a burden, a millstone around his neck. He was just a man, after all. The pressure was enormous.

Whilst in Hollywood, the young actor had been introduced to recreational drugs by his student, Steve McQueen. Back in Hong Kong, Lee turned to the drugs more frequently to help him relax. A fitness fanatic, Lee quickly stopped smoking cannabis in China—where the fresh leaves were readily available to the wealthy—and began chewing and swallowing the drug instead. Surviving reports indicate that Lee believed this was healthier, because there was no damage to the lungs. He felt that chewing and swallowing cannabis leaf would present a more natural alternative. (Hey—it’s a plant, right?)

Unfortunately, although smoking anything is decidedly unhealthy, it doesn’t follow that chewing the fresh plant is better. In fact in many ways, it’s worse; swallowing the leaves allows the powerful alkaloids present in the drug to enter the system complete and uncorrupted, which is not the case with smoking.

On May the 10th 1973, Bruce Lee collapsed. He was rushed to hospital with a swollen brain, where a medical team were able to save his life. Etiology of the condition was left unrecorded, but a “large amount” of cannabis was removed from his stomach. Dr Peter Wu, the neurosurgeon who treated him, warned him off swallowing cannabis due to the potency of the pure chemicals. He told Lee about the dangers of the drug—in areas where the cannabis plant is traditionally eaten, such as Nepal, cerebral edemas are not uncommon.

Lee died of cerebral edema on July the 20th 1973, aged thirty-two, at the pinnacle of his fame and physical prowess. The autopsy revealed that, again, large amounts of cannabis leaf were found in his stomach. The official cause of death was reaction to the painkillers he took that day—which were little more than aspirin.

Dr Donald Langford, Lee’s own physician and the doctor who treated Lee on the day he died, has long refuted this verdict. He has stated that in fact, Lee was hypersensitive to one or more of the alkaloids found in cannabis. Dr  Wu—who saved his life the previous May—agreed with this cannabis theory.

It was the stress-busting dope that killed him.

Think about this. In the end, it was the stress and pressure of trying to live up to his own image that probably killed Bruce Lee—the most famous fighter of our time. He had not placed himself in a situation where he could fight without fighting—where he could express himself freely without direct confrontation. It was impossible.

Some people believe that constant conflict is good. That they require the fire of direct confrontation to “test” them as individuals; as men. This is a matter of insecurity. If you are the kind of person who requires constant confrontation in order to “prove” yourself, then it’s not your combat skills you need to train, but your ego. Direct conflict is not part of The Urban Warrior path; that way leads only to destruction, or at best, frustration.

The best example of this can be seen in the life of Miyamoto Musashi, regarded by many as the greatest swordsman alive and the ultimate example of a samurai. He fought over sixty sword duels—this is a conservative estimate—and won every single one. His abilities were phenomenal, and he didn’t waste time in advertising them. Like a gunfighter in the old west, he was challenged by every roughneck and punk going. He took them on, and he beat them.

On old legend surrounds Musashi, which many experts think is almost definitely true, or at least has the seeds of truth. In his later years, he retired to the mountains to meditate with his spiritual mentor, Shunzan. As they sat out in the wild, a rattlesnake approach their kneeling bodies. At first, the snake slithered over Shunzan, peacefully; but as it neared Musashi, it sensed him, and reared up. Miyamoto scared off the deadly beast, and fell into an immediate depression.

Later that evening, he spoke to Shunzan about the matter.

“Although you are harmless, you were in no danger from the snake, and so you had no need of any skills.” He told Shunzan. “For countless years I have practiced the martial arts and endeavored to cultivate the presence of a fearsome warrior. I have been so successful that now even the beasts of the field can sense this. I see now that I have only succeeded in making myself a universal target! Where am I to go to ever find peace?"

Although they lived centuries apart, both Bruce Lee and Miyamoto Musashi had something in common. They both built up a mystique of the “ultimate warrior” about them. Once it was established, they were both trapped—and ultimately defeated—by that same aura they had originally worked so shard to cultivate.

The problem is not the skills. You can be a badass. You can be the world’s baddest badass. The problem lies in openly projecting that nature outwards, which is exactly what most of us automatically want to do…to get “respect”. This instinct is wrong. Building yourself up as a serious tough guy will never, ever get you less trouble. It just means that if you do ever really need to use your skills, your opponents will be ready for them. Instead, your skills must be carefully guarded; secret; hidden.

Being seen as a “fighter” is not the ultimate way of the warrior. Not being seen at all—becoming a ghost—that is the ultimate technique.

Ponder on the art of fighting without fighting.